


Taking Control of the Situation

by Hello_Spikey



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M, Shower Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-30
Updated: 2010-07-30
Packaged: 2019-09-12 20:04:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16878330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hello_Spikey/pseuds/Hello_Spikey
Summary: Wes and Angel decide to punish Spike for being naughty, and the punishment doesn't go quite as they'd planned.





	Taking Control of the Situation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whichclothes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whichclothes/gifts).



> This is for **whichclothes** who asked: _I'm in the mood for something in which Wes and Angel decide to punish poor Spike for being naughty, and maybe the punishment doesn't go quite as they'd planned. Please? Wouldn't mind if Lindsey got involved somehow, too, but that's optional. *g*_
> 
> Your wish is my very very pleasurable command! (Punishment? Spike? Lindsey? Wes? Angel? *purrrrrrr*)
> 
> *cough* Okay, so this is somewhat lighthearted, actually! Spangel, Splindsey, and if you squint you'll see other permutations of the characters. ;)

“Ta,” Spike called, jingling the car keys high overhead as he swaggered out of the office. Angel and Wes watched the doors swing shut behind him in silence.

Wes leaned back against Angel’s desk, arms crossed. “Well, the answer is clear: you’ll have to cut him off.”

Angel looked up through his mussed hair – his hands were gripping his scalp. “Cut him off?”

“You’re never going to earn Spike’s respect if he can stick his tongue in your ear and get whatever he wants.”

“I don’t… he doesn’t!” Angel straightened in his chair. “There was no tongue!”

Wes gave him a pitying look. “Everyone knows, Angel.” As Angel started to protest, Wes continued with, “People in other countries know. Other hemispheres. Other dimensions. If you think you’ve been discreet, I regret to inform you that you have not. Weasels, Angel, have been known to be more discreet.”

“Uh… thanks, Wes. I think I got your point.”

“So you also see why letting Spike lead you around on a short, flesh-colored leash is not necessarily good for business?”

“He’s not…” Angel grimaced. “Yeah. Fine. I’ll be more firm with Spike.”

Wes turned to face him more fully. “I’m afraid that won’t be enough. You’ve certainly tried being firm. You need to remind him who has the power in the relationship.”

Angel frowned, confused. “Him?”

“No! You, Angel. You have the power.”

“I’m not so sure of that.”

Wes slapped the desk. “So take the power. You’re older and you’re smarter.”

Angel blinked. “Yeah. I am.”

“Seize control.”

“Yeah!”

“Cut him off.”

Angel grimaced. “Yeah,” he said, quietly.

***

“Hello, Peaches.” Spike dropped into Angel’s lap, lips immediately heading for the smooth, slightly stubbly line of his jaw.

Angel squeaked and then dumped him onto the floor.

Spike scowled up at him, arms propped behind him. “Is this about the Viper? Because I told you, that will buff out.”

“No, Spike. It’s about your lack of respect, your insolence, your constant borrowing and breaking and flirting and…” Angel crossed his arms. “You’re cut off.”

Spike jumped to his feet. “It’s just a sodding car!”

“It’s not about…” Angel rolled his eyes. He stood and interrupted Spike’s irate pacing. “Maybe you’ll think twice before you wreck something of mine next time. No more, Spike. No more cars, no more games, no more.”

Spike stood still in his face, jaw tight, eyes glaring, and then he dropped one shoulder, melting into an insouciant leer. “We’ll see about that after I shag your brains out.”

Angel took an involuntary step back, chin pressed down. “That’s cut off, too.”

“What?” Spike looked so gobsmacked it was almost funny.

Angel sauntered forward, lowering his lips to Spike’s ear. “No more sex,” he said, letting his breath play over Spike’s neck before straightening back with a smirk.

Spike’s head was tilted, eyes shut, mouth open. He opened one eye, then the other. Angel put his hands in his pockets.

Spike shook his head. “Ha. Like that’s going to last.”

“It doesn’t have to last long. Just as long as it takes you to give in and beg me to take you back.”

Spike turned as though to storm out, and then turned back, sputtering. “Beg? Me? You’ll be on your knees before the night is out.”

“I survived decades on my own. You go crazy if you’re single for a day.”

Spike pursed his lips, rocked back on his heels, and then marched toward the door. “Fine, Peaches. See you when you’re begging for a piece.” He threw two extended fingers behind him and was out the door.

Angel exhaled slowly, sinking back on his desk.

***

Wesley looked up, irritated as Angel barged into his office without knocking, but upon seeing the murderous expression on his erstwhile boss’ face, Wes surreptitiously reached for the wooden stake he always kept in his top drawer.

Fast as a blink, Angel had his wrist in an iron grip. “It’s not working, Wes,” Angel growled.

Wesley’s eyes narrowed a bit. “Angelus?”

The immediate look of annoyance he got in response was immensely relieving.

“No.” Angel let go of Wesley’s wrist and started to pace, hands in his pockets. “It’s Spike - and your terrible advice, which is not working. If I was Angelus, I’d just chain the annoying shit to my bed and be back to business.” He stopped and glanced back at Wes. “Uh… what I meant to say...”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what you meant to say.”

Angel squirmed under Wesley’s calm, slightly amused gaze. “Damn it! You told me to cut him off and it’s not working!”

“You haven’t given him anything?”

“No!” Angel gestured overhead and resumed pacing. “No cars. No money. I told the cafeteria to stop feeding him. He acts like he doesn’t care! And…”

Wes shifted forward in his seat. “And?”

Angel rubbed a hand over his mouth, then behind his head. “The, uh, the sexthingisn’tworkingeither.”

“I’m sorry?”

Angel planted both fists on the desk. “The sex, Wes. I cut him off but he’s just fine. Meanwhile my balls are so blue the roaches are looking sexy. The demon roaches.”

Wes raised one eyebrow. “I would have thought, with your history…”

The desk creaked in protest as Angel hit it. “I’m not, nor have I ever been, a eunuch! Why does everyone think that?”

Wes pursed his lips. “There is a substantial difference between the sexually prudish and having ones balls removed.”

“I’m not prudish!”

Wes pressed a fist to his mouth. His brow furrowed with the effort of not laughing.

Angel crossed his arms. “He’s teasing me, Wes. He’s doing that thing with his tongue. More than usual. And wriggling around in tight – stop laughing! More than usual!”

Wes turned away, coughed, and then, with seriousness firmly back in hold, said, “No, of course you are not prudish, Angel. But what you need to do is find out why Spike is so unaffected. Or perhaps he’s just putting you on, to make you suffer. He could crack any moment.”

Angel looked hopeful, briefly, then shook his head. “No. Spike’s not that patient.” He sat on the edge of Wesley’s desk and started chewing on the side of his thumbnail. “What am I going to do?”

“Wank,” Wes muttered under his breath. When Angel shot him a look, he sighed, closed his book, and stood. “I’ll find what the little miscreant is up to. In the meantime, surely you have… coping strategies that worked in past dry spells?”

Angel glared at him and stormed out, muttering, “Damn epiphanies screw up having empty sex with hookers.”

Wes judged it best to pretend he hadn’t heard.

***

Had you asked Wes beforehand, he would have said spying on Spike would be easy. After all, the vampire did everything he could to gain the center of attention and then keep it.

But for three days, Spike managed to give him the slip halfway through the day, disappearing to parts unknown for hours, and returning smug and freshly showered.

Angel was giving Wes exasperated looks, like he was on death row and Wes was his lawyer, failing appeal after appeal.

Not to be outdone by a century-old vampire with the personal habits of a teen, Wes cleared his schedule and resorted to a bit of magic.

“Now I’ve got you,” he smiled as he followed a small, glowing dot through the corridors of Wolfram and Hart. (Leave it to the odd nature of the firm that no one glanced at him twice).

He heard them before he saw them: grunts and pants echoing with whispered words through the long, empty locker room used by the security personnel. Wes dismissed his magical guide with a gesture and followed the echoing sounds to the shower room.

Lindsey had his hands around the shower nozzle, over his head, his tan, muscular legs wrapped around Spike’s paler waist. Wes stopped in his tracks, somewhat mesmerized by the rhythmic flexing of Spike’s very well-formed ass and the squelching sounds of two wet bodies coming together under the shower spray. Rivulets played very appealingly down Spike’s back and as he watched Spike’s shoulders bunched and he pushed Lindsey higher up the wall, eliciting a “Fuck yeah!” from the cowboy that was quickly silenced with a sloppy kiss.

Wesley adjusted the lay of his boxer shorts discretely and noted to himself that this might, just might, explain why Spike was so much more able to put up with a period of abstinence than Angel. Bravo, case closed.

But he might as well stay and watch a bit longer. To be absolutely sure.

Lindsey’s bare foot slid over Spike’s ass, down his thigh, toes curling in an attempt to make purchase while Spike drove into him harder, his back now hitting the wall with loud smacks, the air leaving his lungs in rhythmic grunts. He let go of the shower head and grabbed Spike’s shoulders, pulling himself up, wrapping his arms around behind.

His blue eyes slit open just a bit, but if he saw Wesley, he didn’t seem to notice, or was perhaps beyond caring. He twisted, reaching between their bodies, but Spike grabbed his wrist and slammed it into the tile by his head. Lindsey cried out, raising against Spike. “Fucking HELL, vampire!”

Spike was doing something with his other hand while Lindsey’s legs pressed hard enough to turn skin reddened by the heat of the water white. Wesley raised onto his tip-toes, annoyed by the bad viewing angle. Lindsey seemed to be trying to get away and trying to get closer all at once, red-faced and thrashing while Spike worked relentlessly against him. Lindsey fell forward, a mop of wet hair streaming down over Spike’s shoulder. Spike slammed him into the wall twice more, then slapped the wall with one free hand as they both seemed to notice the affect of gravity, suddenly, and laughed at each other, pausing to kiss gently while Lindsey’s feet felt for the floor.

Wesley stepped back into the locker room and waited for them to emerge from the shower.

Spike came out first, naked as the day he was born. He blinked on seeing Wes, but continued past unperturbed to find his coat thrown over a bench.

“There’s no smoking in the locker rooms,” Wesley said as Spike pulled his pack out. “Or in the building at all, come to think of it.”

“Enjoy the show then, Watcher?” Spike turned to lean against the lockers as he lit his cigarette.

“Oh shit!” Wes heard from behind him.

“Hello, Lindsey,” Wes replied, keeping his eyes on Spike. “What do you suppose Angel is going to do to you when I tell him what I saw here today?”

“This is his fault, damnit! I’m just a prisoner here, remember?” Lindsey’s wet footsteps stomped across the room and a locker opened with a bang.

Spike looked down, lighting his cigarette. When he glanced up, he met Wesley’s eyes. “What do you want, then?”

“You’re going to beg Angel’s forgiveness and pretend, if it is within your power, to be contrite.”

Spike wrinkled his brow, smirking. “Like hell.”

Lindsey stomped over from the other side of the lockers, wearing a fluffy white towel around his waist. “Damn it, Spike! You know how Angel gets when he’s jealous! Some of us are mortal, you know.”

Spike exhaled a slow stream of smoke, shrugged and tucked a hand behind his head. “Would you accept a shag and call it even?”

Wes tilted his head as if considering. “No.”

“Spike, so help me, you are not leaving me with the blame for this,” Lindsey said.

“Keep your skirt on,” Spike replied. He regarded Wesley like an opponent across a poker table. (Which was quite distracting, given his naked state.) “What does it matter to you whether the brooding wonder and I have a tiff?”

“You made me look foolish to Angel. I advised him to cut you off.”

Spike shrugged. “Not your fault I’m smarter than he is.”

“And yet I am the one who has to deal with his mooning, moping, and irritability. I’d say I’m more than motivated enough to make you keep to the bargain.”

Spike straightened a bit. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean I could always cast a chastity spell on you. Or something worse.”

Lindsey cleared his throat. “What all’s involved in a chastity spell?”

Spike scowled at him. “Fine.” He tossed his cigarette toward the drain in the floor and gave Wes an insincere smile. “One contrite vampire, coming up.”

***

Spike crawled into Angel’s lap, pouting very attractively and whispering dirty promises. Angel’s smile beamed bright enough to shine clearly on the black and white security monitor.

“It’s lovely watching a plan come together,” Wes said, reaching behind him to cup Lindsey’s cheek while the latter nipped and licked at Wesley’s neck.

“I’m sure not complaining about my part,” Lindsey chuckled. Wes hissed in pleasure as Lindsey rubbed rough stubble against the sensitive skin behind his ear, one hand reaching under Wesley’s shirt to flick a nipple. “So… how long before we can convince Angel to punish Spike again?”


End file.
